


Winchester Valentines

by CuriousxCrowley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6014179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousxCrowley/pseuds/CuriousxCrowley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>14 drabbles set on various Valentine's throughout the boys' lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1983

**Author's Note:**

> Once we get past pre-series I based when Valentine's Day on episode air dates unless a timeline is given.  
> Also this is so super un-beta'd I apologize.

1983

Dean’s 4, ask and he’ll tell you with chubby fingers up punctuating his declaration.

Mommy has been in a very good mood the last few days, humming songs with one hand on her swollen belly. Dean likes to touch her belly too, and sometimes at night he sings the songs mommy taught him to it. Well not to her belly but she says there’s a baby in there, he’s not sure how that works because his mommy isn’t _that_ big and babies aren’t really _that_ small. But mommy says it’s a little brother or sister and he’ll get to play with them. Dean hopes it’s a brother, the girls at the playground are weird and they all seem to wear pink for some reason.

Mommy wears pink too but it’s okay on her, especially today. It’s Valentine’s Day she tells Dean when he asks why his pancakes are shaped like hearts. “Balentines Day” he repeats slowly, he’s heard the people on the radio with the loud voices talking about that day.

They spend the day baking cookies shaped like hearts and mommy lets him try the batter. After nap they get out bright red construction paper and mommy shows him how to cut out a heart. He’s very careful with the scissors when it’s his turn to try, he got in trouble for cutting the table cloth last week and he only kind of did that on purpose. His doesn’t turn out as good but when he hands it to her and says “For you” she smiles real big and puts it on the refrigerator.

Daddy gets home and it’s still light out which Dean knows is not normal but he’s too excited because they get to try the cookies now. Daddy has a big handful of red flowers and Dean wonders who’s garden he picked them from and if he asked first. The flowers make mommy smile again.

Daddy’s talking about how they’re going out to dinner and Dean gets excited. Daddy laughs and ruffles his hair, “Not you kiddo, tonight is just for me and mom. Miss Kate is gunna come watch you.”

Dean pouts and wraps his arms around mommy, his head on her belly. He wants them to stay home with him. “Don’t leave,” he whines and ignores the look on daddy’s face like he’s going to get scolded for being a baby. But mommy laughs softly, rubs the back of his neck and he instantly feels better.

“If you be good for Miss Kate I’ll let you have a cookie with breakfast,” Mommy says and Dean nods his head and smiles when mommy kisses his hair.

“I love you,” Dean says with his eyes closed. That’s when he feels it. A little bump under his ear. He sits up and looks down confused and mommy begins laughing.

“That’s the baby!” She says excitedly, “I was wondering when one of you was going to get to feel it.”

Daddy rushes over and puts his hand on her belly where Dean’s head had been. “Hey in there,” he says and they wait but nothing happens.

Dean waits until daddy moves his hand to put his head back down. “Happy balentine’s day baby,” he says to mommy’s tummy. He feels the tap again and then again. Tap, tap, tap. Right under his cheek.


	2. 1989

1989

It’s Sam’s first year of school, kindergarten. Though more than one of the four teachers he’s had this year have suggested he might be better suited for first grade. They haven’t stuck around long enough to try out that theory.

Sam likes kindergarten. Sure he doesn’t get the same big books Dean gets and only one other girl in his current class can read like him, but he likes it. He likes this teacher a lot too. Miss Dalton. She says hi to Sam every morning and even invites Dean in for graham crackers and apple juice before class even though he’s in 4th grade.

Miss Dalton also likes to paint and the entire class gets excited whenever they walk in after recess and see her wearing the once white apron that’s now covered in a rainbow of stains.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day she’s been wearing that apron all day. Teaching them all about love and handing out tiny heart chocolates after lunch. In the morning she gave them a big white heart to paint whatever color they wanted.

Sam choses blue because it’s Dean’s favorite color.

After they dried she explained they were going to decide who to give the heart to and they were going to tell that person why they loved them. She spent most of her time helping everyone else, telling them what letters to write. Sam knew what he wanted to write and even how to spell the words. Miss Dalton checked on him when he declared himself finished and she gave him a smile that didn’t quiet reach her eyes.

It was now just past three and Sam was waiting for Dean outside his classroom, just like every day before. This time he has a big blue heart clutched between his fingers.

When he sees Dean he doesn’t run at him for a hug. Dean just turned 10 and told him he was too big for that, at least at school. At the motel he lets Sam hug him all he wants. Instead he bounces up and down in his still too big and too worn out sneakers. Waiting for Dean to get to him. And it seems like it takes FOREVER.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean says and claps his hand on Sam’s shoulder. That’s how dad says ‘hi’ to them and Sam knows how much like dad Dean wants to be.

“De I made something for you!” He says excitedly presenting his painted heart to his big brother.

Dean chuckles and takes it from him, opening it carefully. “Oh wow Sammy thanks!” he says after studying it for a moment.

“You like it, De?” Sam asks suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course little brother, it’s the best. I love it.” Dean nods. He looks around quickly and then leans down and gives Sam a big hug.

The blue paper heart is forgotten and within a few months Sam barely remembers Miss Dalton. But one day, just after they find the bunker, Sam is helping Dean move some items out of the Impala. Tucked in a small wooden box he found in the back of the trunk he discovers a faded paper heart. The words barely visible anymore but he knows them by heart. “I love you Dean, because you are best big brother in the world.- Sam”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaahh wittle Sammy kills meeee.


	3. 1991

1991

Dad is off on a witch hunt. Apparently they like to come out in numbers around Valentine’s Day, so many desperate people willing to try anything for love. So it’s just Dean and Sam this week.

Not that Dean cares, Valentine’s Day is stupid. All the girls in his class have gone mushy and keep handing him stupid little cards attached to candy and giggling when he takes them. He only takes them because of the candy.

He’s glad school is over for the day and he doesn’t have to worry about stupid giggling girls coming at him from every corner. He gladly hands over half of his candy stash to Sam who lights up like the freaking sun when he does. Sam’s only in second grade so the girls in his class haven’t gone completely insane, yet, but Dean still notices a decent pile of chocolate stuffed in the bottom of his brother’s backpack. He’s not surprised, Sam has these big eyes that could convince a werewolf to stop hunting if he asked.

There’s some change left over from dinner the previous night and only a little milk left, so he decides to walk down to the soda machines and leave the milk for Sam’s cereal in the morning. Sam gives him a look that Dean can only describe as bitchy when he reminds Sam about not opening the door for anyone but him. Sure he’s only going to be gone for a few minutes but ever since Sam learned about the monsters their dad hunts Dean feels a new sense of urgency to keep his brother safe.

Heather, the motel manager’s daughter, is at the soda machines too. Dean doesn’t mind her and doubts she’s gone crazy, she seems too cool for that. Thirteen and miles of long legs and brand new breasts the sight of Heather makes Dean’s mouth go dry and his stomach tighten. She’s not the first girl to make him feel this way but she’s the first one who talks to him, she doesn’t judge them for living here because she does too.

“Hey Dean!” She smiles at him so wide she has dimples.

“Hey Heather… so uh how are you?” He asks and cringes at how stupid he sounds.

“Good, you?” She doesn’t seem to notice he’s stupid and opens her soda.

“Pretty good, just getting drinks for me and Sammy,” He says and she nods. Heather doesn’t have any siblings but she likes Sam and doesn’t talk to him like he’s a dumb kid. And for some reason that makes Dean like her even more.

“Cool,” She takes a long drink and Dean is so intent on watching the way she tips he head back that he doesn’t actually move to get the sodas. “So you going to the dance on Friday?”

Friday. Will Dean even be here on Friday? He’s not sure when dad plans on getting back or when they plan on moving on. “Probably not, I gotta watch Sammy.” It’s the truth, at least.

“Oh, cool. Okay.” Heather nods but she doesn’t seem too mad at Dean.

“Sorry, just dad’s away on business and he’s too little to be alone.” He feels like he has to explain but he doesn’t even know why he does.

“No that’s cool,” Heather nods before breaking out another smile, “Maybe if you want we, all three of us, could go see a movie instead?”

Dean nods a little too enthusiastically before catching himself, “Uh yeah sure, sounds fun.” He’s not sure they have money for tickets but even if he has to steal it he’ll find some before Friday.

“Cool. And uh Dean?” Heather says stepping towards him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” She pressing a short sweet kiss to his lips, its fast enough that Dean doesn’t have time to respond before she’s pulled away and is walking back towards the office.

Dean completely forgets the sodas and walks back to the motel room, one finger pressed to his lips like he can’t quite believe what just happened.

 


	4. 1995

1995

Dean has just turned 16 and despite the fact that he’s been able to drive for years the ability to legally operate a vehicle is liberating.

They’ve just had a successful poltergeist hunt and dad, please with Dean’s fast thinking on the case, handed him the keys to the impala and told him to go have fun. He’s got the number of a pretty red head from his homeroom burning a hole in his pocket. So he ignores the pleading look on Sam’s face, doesn’t dare look in his eyes knowing full well his little brother has broken out the puppy dog look. Sam has always hated being left behind by Dean, even more so since he and dad have started arguing over everything, but dragging your 11-year-old little brother around on dates gets weird.

So Dean ignores it and calls up Sarah from the payphone outside the motel. Dean’s only a little surprised when she says she doesn’t have a date, rumor around the high school doesn’t exactly have her pegged as the ‘girlfriend’ type. Dean doesn’t need a girlfriend, they’ll be gone in a few days anyway.

He picks her up and they go to see a movie, he’s not interested in the chick flick. Instead he’s busy pulling out all his best movies and okay maybe that stale arm-across-the-shoulders one. By the time they’re halfway through Sarah hand has begun drawing figure eights on his thigh, pinky finger brushing against his dick with every pass. He’s as hard as nails and spends the next 45 minutes thinking about every gross thing so he doesn’t actually moan in a theater full of people.

Later in the backseat of the impala with his hand up her skirt, two fingers deep where its warmest, he wonders briefly what Sam is doing. He not sure why his dorky little brother comes to mind, probably just guilty and he hopes he and dad haven’t started arguing _again_. Dean gets his first blow job that night and he can tell she’s definitely experienced, knowing just how to flick her tongue or hollow her cheeks.

After dropping Sarah at her house with a kiss that leaves him half hard again he drives home with the window down despite the frigid Milwaukee temps. He doesn’t need dad kicking his ass for the smell of sex that lingers in the air. Alone in the dark he feels extremely guilty for leaving Sam for no reason other than he knows how much his brother hates being with their dad alone. He hates being directly responsible for Sam’s unhappiness.

The room is completely dark. He can make out his dad asleep on the bed closest to the door, on top of the covers using his jacket as a blanket. There’s a tiny ball under the covers of the other bed, Sam.

After a quick shower, in which he spent most of the time trying to scrub cherry red lipstick off his dick, he crawls in the second bed. Dad’s been hinting at them no longer sharing a bed but he has yet to get them a room to accommodate that wish. Dean doesn’t mind, now of course he’d punch anyone in the face that suggested he didn’t mind but he doesn’t. Sam is a tiny furnace and the motels always seem to be too cold so sometimes it’s nice when his little brother pretends to be an octopus in his sleep.

 


	5. 1999

1999

It’s near ten, Sam had been alone since five and he was not sulking- really he’s not. Dad’s off saving the world, or whatever his justification is, and Dean is off at some stupid bar hitting on some stupid chick.

Not sulking.

Sam wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping for, it’s not like they were dating. There was no description, no perfect word to sum up this thing between them that it shouldn’t have felt like a stake through the heart when Dean had gone scampering off to a bar.

This thing. This thing that felt so new and yet it was something Sam is pretty sure he’d wanted since birth. This thing that was born of too much beer and a sloppy kiss and yet conceived through so many years of breathing each other’s air that his lungs only recognized Dean anymore.

They didn’t talk about it. It just happened. When dad was off and Dean was left behind. They’d fall into bed, rutting against each other tongue sparring more fiercely than they’d ever done with their fists. They didn’t talk but Dean set boundaries loud and clear. Sam would end up naked as the day he was born but if Dean ended up with his shirt off it was a good day. Dean would blow Sam until the younger boy went blind and deaf with pleasure but he wasn’t even allowed to give Dean a hand job. It was infuriating and if he wasn’t so afraid of losing what they did have he would fight Dean over it.

Dean comes into the room, too loud to be sober and Sam can smell the beer from ten feet away. He lays still hoping Dean thinks he’s asleep. Dean drops down on the bed behind him so hard it bounces Sam on the mattress.

“Know you’re not asleep, Sammy,” Dean’s voice is clear even though he smells like he went swimming in beer.

Sam ignores him.

“Oh come on. You mad?” Dean’s boots go flying across the room.

Sam ignores him.

“Come on _little brother_ wanna make you feel good,” Dean’s voice has suddenly dropped an octave and Sam can’t suppress a shiver. He’s probably going to hell with the way his dick springs to life when Dean says ‘little brother’ even with what they do in the dark that should not be a turn on.

Mad at himself and at Dean, Sam finally speaks, “What was no one desperate enough to fuck you?” He doesn’t care how bitter he sounds.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and then he yanks the covers back and crawls on top of Sam. Sam bites his lip when Dean rolls his hardened dick into his own. He’s mad at Dean and he won’t moan like one of his brother’s dumb whores.

“Jealous, Sammy?” Dean asks in a husky voice too near Sam’s ear.

“No you jerk,” Sam bites out and shoves Dean, but Dean only grinds down again.

“You mad?” Dean asks biting softly down Sam’s neck.

“You’re drunk, Dean. Get off. Just because no one else wants to fuck you doesn’t me I want to be the consolation prize.”

The surprised look on Dean’s face as he rears up matches how Sam feels. He can’t believe he’s actually said the words. Panic rises up through his gut.

“That’s what you- fuck Sammy, no!” Dean says and scrubs one hand over his face, he looks sober suddenly.

“Then what Dean? You clearly haven’t gotten laid and I’m apparently here and easy.” Sam says, he’s in too far to back out.

Dean’s now grabbing his jaw so hard Sam squirms but he’s pinned in too many places to get anywhere. “You’re right. I didn’t get laid because all I could think about was you back here alone. You are anything but easy, Sam. Fuck the things I wanna do to you, but we-I can’t Sam.”

“Why not?” Sam askes, he’s terrified of the answer. Go figure Dean chooses today to have a freak out over this.

“You’re too young. I feel like I’m forcing you, like you don’t have a choice,” Dean’s voice is so low Sam has to strain to hear him. “I can’t use you like that.”

Sam’s hand connects with Dean’s face before he realizes what he’s doing. A slap, not a punch, but there’s definitely a red mark on his brother’s cheek. Dean looks just as shocked.

“You’re not using me you dumbass,” Sam says angrily. “You won’t even let me jack you off and you’ve blown me six ways to Sunday at least half a dozen times. If anything I’m using you. It’s killing me that you won’t let me touch you, I feel like you’re doing this just to make me happy.”

Dean lets out a chuckle and throws his head back with a sigh, “We’re so fucked up, Sam” He says it to the ceiling.

Sam nods even though Dean can’t see him, he’s not going to argue that fact. Instead he slides one hand up Dean’s leg, over his thigh and stops with his fingertips on the button of Dean’s jeans.

Dean’s head snaps down and he looks like he’s about to protest but Sam pops the button and whispers, “Please let me, Dean.”

 


	6. 2001

2001

Dean’s thankful for the small miracles like dad finally springing for two motels rooms now that Sam is old enough to hustle the extra money. Dean was hustling at barely 16 but Sam has such an innocent face absolutely no believed his ID until very recently. Of course Sam hates hustling, hates hunting and Dean has a black crawling suspicion that Sam honestly hates their father. So aside from the benefit of privacy the extra rooms are good for stopping the constant battle going on between his brother and his father.

Dean knows their father is expecting him to be out bar hopping, trying to pick up the lonely and desperate women out tonight. Not tonight, he knows better than to fan the flame of Sam’s teenage angst. He’s been increasingly careful about his random hook ups and keeping them as far from Sam’s knowledge as possible.

Dean still sleeps around, pretty blondes and red heads with curves in all the right places. He can’t sleep with brunettes anymore, two split lips from angry hands when the word “Sam” slipped from his lips at the wrong time. 

 It’s not that Sam isn’t enough. God, the kid could seemingly go for days living off of nothing but Dean’s dick and Dean loves him for it. No, Sam is more than enough sexually. It’s that Dean can feel it, the rift that he used to associate only with their father. It’s tiny and barely a paper cut to their relationship, Sam slamming his binder shut and shoving it in his backpack whenever Dean is around. Dean’s afraid, afraid that if he allows his world to narrow down completely to only Sam that whatever this is, is going to kill him.

But if he weren’t so afraid he thinks he could be faithful to Sam. Nothing gets him harder or sends him to oblivion faster than the sight of that still growing too long frame stretched out beneath him. Those sinful sweet lips painted with his cum, Sam still on his knees grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Dean could (would) live on nothing more than those soft little sounds and blood bitten lips that Sam gives him. But Dean knows he would (will) die if he gives himself completely over to the sleepy ‘I love you’ whispers in the dark.


	7. 2002

2002

The phone is in his hand, those same 10 digits have been dialed over and over so much that the paint is fading on them. Sam never hits send, never dares himself to actually face the reality of Dean rejecting him. But that’s what he deserves, after all he left his brother for this great new life.

Truthfully Sam hates it. Hates this stupid college, hates this stupid room but most of all he hates himself. But as much as he wants to go back to Dean, hell he’d beg at their father’s feet for it, he knows he can’t He’s broken everything to completely to hope that any pieces might fit together anymore. No amount of begging could glue together everything he’s ruined. Which in retrospect is pretty much everything.

Sam doubts Dean would even touch him anymore, not after that night at the bus stop. Not after he packed his things and left Dean.

He wonders bitterly if Dean is out fucking some nameless girl from a nowhere bar.

Sam could get laid. He might not be Dean but he’s already had enough proposals to know he has a decent pool to pick from. But it’s not what he wants. They breathe wrong, they smell wrong, they touch him wrong. It’s not their fault, they don’t have the almost nineteen years of experience Dean does… did.

So he’s alone, half a bottle of Jack in and he fully intends on finishing the other half before the night is over.

He’s never been a drinker, hates the feeling of being so out of control of himself. Lately though, he’s not even sure he’s in control when he’s stone cold sober. So what’s the point?

Dark thoughts have crossed his mind lately and there’s a bottle of ketamine between his bed and the wall. He spent most of his November wages on it. So far he’s never even opened the bottle but he knows exactly how much would cause him to OD, knows how it would mix with the alcohol. It’s his backup plan, for if he fails at this life too.

After he bought the bottle he contemplated seeing the counselors on campus. But how do you explain that you’re seriously considering suicide because you’ve ruined your incestuous relationship with your other brother. You don’t. That’s how. So he’s dealing with it himself. Giving himself until his birthday. If nothing is better by then, he’ll swallow the whole damn bottle.

He’s honestly not sure what outcome he’s hoping for.

 


	8. 2005

2005

Dean’s not a stalker. He’s a hunter. At least that’s what he tells himself when he rolls into Palo Alto midafternoon on Valentine’s Day. It’s not the first time he’s checked on Sam when he’s been in the area, and so what if he intentionally takes anything that sounds like a case within 100 miles of this place.

Sam doesn’t know, though. Sam made his choice clear when he walked away. Dean was respecting that choice while respecting his right as a big brother to make sure his dumb little brother hasn’t gotten himself killed.

He had cringed a little when he realized the date. Lately he hasn’t taken notice to things like calendars or clocks. Just picks up his phone when dad or Bobby calls and hightails his ass to whatever fight needs fighting. He doesn’t want to remember the dates that used to mean so much even if they did so little. He’d been 26 for two weeks before he even noticed.

 He’d managed to sweet talk the receptionist at the registars office into revealing Sam had moved off campus since the last time he’d been through. He wondered how his brother had swung off campus housing, he knew worked in the campus library. It had taken nearly the whole afternoon to locate the apartment. The neighborhood wasn’t bad, no bars on the windows and no strung out junkies on the corners. In fact, it was a pretty decent place with midrange cars parked on the street.

It hadn’t taken long to catch a glimpse of Sam. His brother towered over almost everyone in the world, Dean included now. God, Sam looked good. Healthy, alive and happy. He had emerged from the apartment building with a pretty blond. She was talking animatedly, hands flying and Sam was smiling so wide his dimples must have been inches deep.

Dean hadn’t planned on following them, that would have been creepy. But it just so happened they passed by all the cars and kept walking, Sam’s hand protectively placed on pretty blond’s lower back. Dean’s heart clenched painfully at that simple gesture. He’d done the same thing hundreds of times to Sam.

They stopped outside a restaurant and Dean ducked into a doorway. He could still see and hear them but he knew they wouldn’t see him.

“Stop acting so nervous!” Pretty blond was laughing as she readjusted Sam’s collar.

“Jess this is the first time I’ve met your family and it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m pretty certain I’m entitled to some nervousness,” Sam said both of his hands were now on her waist.

“Come on nerd boy, they’re going to love you. You’re perfect!” Jess said as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips.

Dean’s fists were clenched by his side, blunt nails digging crescents into his palms. How many times had he called Sam nerd boy? How many times had he been the one to soothe his brother with a kiss? And now this girl had slipped into his place so easily. And god damnit Sam seemed so fucking happy. He was getting his normal, hell he was meeting the parents tonight. Dean had only met the parents when they walked in on him with their daughter. Never like this.

As Dean turned and walked back to the Impala he promised himself he was never going to infringe on Sam’s life again. His brother clearly didn’t need him and he didn’t need Sam.

Except he did, so much it hurt.


	9. 2007

2007

Sam still felt dirty, used. He could still feel Meg like she hadn’t really gone, like she was still lurking just beneath his skin. It might have been Meg controlling him but he could still feel the blood on his hands just as if he’d been the one to kill Steve and it made him sick. It was his hands that pulled the trigger on Dean, even as he clawed and screamed in his own mind to stop it.

They were heading toward Ohio and another case but had decided to stop for the night. Sam had almost questioned it when he’d realized the date, Dean’s favorite holiday.

Honestly Sam was glad to be alone. He felt guilty and hadn’t been able to look Bobby in the eye, hell he could barely look at Dean. Riding in the car had been like hell.

He’d showered at Bobby’s thinking he could rid himself of the filth feeling, but it hadn’t worked. He was in the shower again, water turned as hot as possible. He was only vaguely aware of the burb as he focused on scrubbing himself clean. He’d reopened the burn on his arm and the water was stained pink as it bled.

He eventually gave up and wondered if he would ever feel clean again, probably not. He wasn’t clean. Meg had made sure to tell him that over and over, had never been clean. She’d been digging through his memories and showing him just how fucked up he truly was. She’d had a field day when she discovered _those_ memories.

_Your own brother? Damn Sam, I know you two were fucked up but that’s a new level even for me. But he didn’t really want it, you know that right? He only did it because he thought it’d make you happy and you know it. You knew it even then, that’s why you ran like a little bitch._

Sam’s stomach turned, if there had been anything in it he would have thrown up. Instead he turned off the water and stepped out. His skin was pink and raw from the too hot water and vigorous scrubbing, the blood from his burn was mixing with the water droplets giving him a kool-aid stain on his skin. He was the very definition of a mess.

He hadn’t been expecting Dean to be back until the following morning. But when he walked out of the bathroom, only the crappy motel towel wrapped around his waist, he saw his brother sitting on the bed. He thought about slinking back into the bathroom and waiting for Dean to leave again. Instead he set his jaw and made a beeline for his duffle. Dean’s boots were off, he apparently had no plans of leaving again.

He heard Dean sigh and tried to ignore the sounds of his brother moving off of his bed. He couldn’t ignore the hand that wrapped around his wrist.

“What the hell are you doing Sam, this shit is gunna get infected,” Dean actually sounded concerned.

 Sam ripped his arm away and focused on pulling clothes out. “Sorry, it opened in the shower.”

He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, taking in the rest of the raw skin on his body and his brother let out a sigh. “Let me bandage it will you?”

“You wanna let me get dressed first?” Sam shot back finally looking up at his brother.

Dean’s lips twitched into a smirk and Sam had to look away again. They’d been dancing around this since Jess died, both of them pretending to have no knowledge of how they had spent the nights of their adolescence. Occasionally something would slip: careless words or a touch too long and they’d avoid each other like the plague for a few days.

Sam quickly shoved his sweats on, thankful that Dean stepped back to get their first aide kit. He contemplated his shirt but it had sleeves and Dean would only yell at him for making things difficult.

“You know it’s not your fault,” Dean said as he started cleaning Sam’s burn.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed trying to stop the conversation in its tracks.

It didn’t work. Dean grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him. “A demon crawled inside you. You didn’t do any of that.”

“Before Steve she thought it was funny to drag up old memories. She likes the ones where I screwed up, liked reminding me of how much of a fuck up I am. Did you know that I can actually remember the night mom died? I mean Meg helped but apparently the memory is there” Sam admitted quietly.

Dean sighed as he finished wrapping the wrist but he didn’t pull his hand away. “You were six months old dude, you are no more responsible for mom’s death than anyone but fucking yellow eyes. And sure you screwed up but everyone does and to date you’ve not done anything that hundreds of other people haven’t already done.”

Sam chuckled weakly, “Nah I’m pretty certain I have,” and he looked at Dean. It took a moment but he could see when the recognition dawned on his brother’s face.

“She saw that huh?”

“Yeah.”

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Sam…”

“Dean stop, I can’t do this right now okay? Please,” Sam wasn’t above begging.

“Fine but whatever it was she said about that, it wasn’t true. Okay? You know she was lying just to get at you.” Dean persisted.

Sam wanted to believe Dean, he really did.


	10. 2010

2010

Bobby had left, gone into town for “supplies” was his official statement. Dean wasn’t stupid, Bobby couldn’t take Sam’s screaming any more than he could. Except where Bobby and Cas had a choice to leave, Dean didn’t. It had gone quiet shortly after Bobby drove off, when Dean had noticed the lack of sound he’d panicked and ran for his brother. Sam was breathing erratically but he was breathing and that was a good thing.

He didn’t blame Sam. Cas had been eating raw ground beef from the kitchen floor, that’s how bad things had been.

Dean was scared. It seemed like a reoccurring theme in his life, constantly being afraid. He was afraid for the world, afraid for his brother and he was downright terrified of himself. Famine had told him he was dead inside.

No emotion had completely overtaken his body the way Sam’s addiction had him. Dean had felt things though, stronger emotions than he’d felt since Hell. So maybe he wasn’t completely dead inside, just everything was muted and buried under decades of torture.

He’d wanted Sam though. Every fiber of his being had screamed for his brother from the moment he’d stepped into the restaurant. He could easily control it, bury the urge deep inside himself. He should have been horrified at the sight of Sam covered in blood, energy pouring from his body. But he’d wanted nothing more than to throw himself at his brother and lick the blood from his face, bend him over a table and fuck the power from his body.

40 years in hell had fucked him up more than anyone could imagine.  


	11. 2012

2012

“So, you still terrified of clowns?” Dean asked with that amused little tone that let Sam know his brother was being an ass just for fun.

“You still afraid of planes?” Sam shot back over the top of his computer screen.

“Dude planes kill people,” Dean defending. They’d had this argument dozens of times.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the familiarity of this, “Yeah and so do clowns. There’s still glitter in my hair to prove it.”

“I could shave it for you.” Dean suggested.

“You’ve been threatening to shave my head since I was twelve, thus far you haven’t actually gone through with it.” Dean was standing over his shoulder now, reading the newspaper article Sam was scanning through.

“You’d look pretty weird,” Dean said, his mouth so close to Sam’s ear that he couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through him.

Dean had been like this since Sam had gotten his soul back. Sam felt like he was fifteen again, wanting his brother to just get the fuck on with it but too afraid to speak up. They hadn’t touched like this in almost a decade. “So uh, why aren’t you out enjoying ‘unattached drifter Christmas’?” He found himself asking and that got Dean moving away from him.

“Not in the mood tonight,” Dean shrugged lamely.

Sam’s jaw dropped open, “You? Not ‘in the mood’ has that ever happened in the history of ever?”

Dean glared at him. “Shut up bitch, that’s not what I meant. I just meant I don’t feel like trying to pick the least crazy cat lady from the bunch tonight.”

“Ah so instead we’re playing mope around the motel?” Sam nodded, “Good plan.”

Dean was studying him now, intensely and Sam half wondered if there was something on his face. “Robo-you aside, why don’t you ever enjoy shit like drifter Christmas?”

“Robo-me aside, I don’t enjoy fucking for fucking’s sake,” Sam sighed out, “You of all people should know that.”

They were stepping dangerously close to that subject again and Sam could feel it. “So you’re telling me you’ve never fucked someone you didn’t care about?”

“No, I have. There were some people before Jess,” _after you_ “and a couple people when you were in hell. I just don’t like it, I feel like I’m being rude.”

Dean was laughing. “What?” Sam asked and he could feel the heat on his cheeks.

“Dude sometimes I don’t know where you get that shit from.” Dean seemed genuinely amused at Sam’s feelings on casual sex.

Sam was pretty certain his entire face was red now, “It’s your fault,” he mumbled.

“My fault? How are you blaming you being a prude on me?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Dude, seriously?” Sam asked throwing his hands up, “I spent six months begging you to fuck me before you finally broke down. All I heard that entire time was ‘I can’t use you like that, Sam’ on repeat like a fucking recording.”

He bit his lip. Well it was out there now and he couldn’t exactly take it back.

“Oh,” Dean said the smile slipping from his face, “I didn’t realize… really? You’re saying your mister sensitive because of me?”

“Who else did I learn everything about sex from?” Sam asked dryly.

“I kinda want to say sorry but lets face it, it makes you the better person.” Dean’s smile was back but it was softer, less of his normal cocky grin.

“Yes because never getting laid makes me the better person,” Sam agreed wryly.

After a moment of quiet Sam, assuming they were done with the conversation turned back to his laptop. Dean was back on his bed. The quiet persisted for several minutes until Dean cleared his throat, “So uh do you think you’d still be able…” Sam watched him gesture between the two of them and he could feel one of his eyebrows climbing for his hairline. “ya know… with me?” Dean finished finally.

Sam opened his mouth and shut it several times he didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t even sure what answer his brother was looking for. Had he thought about being with Dean again like they’d been as kids? Pretty much every single day. So Sam opted for the truth, sort of.

“Dean we’ve literally gone to hell for each other, I’m pretty certain that means we care about each other He admitted.

“Not what I asked,” Dean said

“Why are you asking Dean?”

Dean shrugged, “You hit on me a couple times before you got your soul back.”

Sam winced. He had those blurry half memories of himself coming on to Dean, “Yeah well you actually punched me one of those times.”

“You weren’t you dude. It was creepy as fuck,” Dean protested.

“So are you saying if I hit on you now you’d be okay with it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Really?” Sam pushed his chair back from the table and stood and walked towards Dean.

“Sam…” Dean said as he stopped in front of him, but there was nothing else added.

“So you’re saying that after all the bullshit I’ve put you through, you wouldn’t mind if I did this?” And like that he leaned down a pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips. There was no heat behind it, nothing substantial and Sam was bracing himself for Dean’s fist to make contact with his face. But instead of a fist, Dean’s hand came up and threaded through his hair, dragging him deeper into the kiss.


	12. 2013

2013

Dean stormed around the bunker slamming things as he went. He was pissed and he couldn’t take it out on the person he was pissed at so the various inanimate objects standing in his way were in danger.

His stupid brother taking on the stupid trials. Stupid fucking Sam talking about seeing lights at the end of the fucking tunnel. “I can take you to it.”

Stupid fucking fucker.

It wasn’t that Dean didn’t believe in Sam. His brother could more than certainly close the gates of hell, could complete all of those trials. But at what cost? Dean knew as well as anyone that nothing came for free. There was a price to pay in all of this.

If he had been the one to do the trials, it would have been his life to pay for it. Sam could have his normal life, not with Amelia though Dean was pretty sure that ship had sailed. But his brother could fit back in with society, become some stupid lawyer. Get a pretty wife have a brat or two, have a mortgage, an ecofriendly sedan, and a dog. Dean had tried that life with Lisa and Ben, even then he hadn’t truly fit in, been so terrified of his life catching up with him that he’d never really enjoyed it. After purgatory he knew he was too far gone to even live that kind of life. Sam though, Sam was still so painfully human that he was hopeful that these trials would end well.

“Dude what did the door do to you?” Sam asked peeking his head out of his own room.

Dean glared at his stupid little brother. He wanted to tell him to mind his own business. To snark about how he was sorry he wasn’t quiet enough for his highness. Instead he found himself grabbing that stupid, stupid face and hauling him in for a kiss. Their teeth clacked and he could taste blood from his own lips.

Sam pulled back surprised, “Dean you okay?”

“You are so fucking stupid.” Dean growled before lunging back at Sam’s mouth, shoving his tongue between his lips trying to suffocate any further conversation. Sam was tense for a minute but eventually gave in his hands coming to rest on Dean’s hips.

Dean shoved them back into Sam’s room and his brother was surprisingly complacent, allowing himself to be manhandled onto the bed. Sam landed hard and let out a grunt of surprise looking up at him.

“Trust me,” Dean mocked.

Sam apparently missed the memo that he was being made fun of and simply nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I do, Dean, you know that.”

That was what broke Dean. He collapsed on top of Sam, burying his face in his brother’s neck. Sam smelled like… well Sam. He was warm and alive, at least for now.

“Dean?” Sam asked after a moment, one of his hands stroking gently up Dean’s back.

“Sammy. I have done everything, given everything I have for you and you go and do this?” Dean could hear his voice break but he didn’t care.

Sam chucked, his hand still moving on Dean’s back. “That’s exactly why I’m doing this. Just let me do this for you, please?”

Dean didn’t respond. He would still take these trials from Sam in a heartbeat if he had a chance. He wouldn’t get the chance though, Sam was so stubborn he’d be will to do pretty much anything. Even if Sam didn’t think this would end in death, he would probably hug the creepy old fucker and walk off into the sunset if it meant finishing these trials himself.

Dean knew in his gut this wouldn’t end well but there was nothing he could do about it anymore. So he just focused on the (currently) very alive man beneath him.


	13. 2015

2015

Sam couldn’t help but be curious, his brother- despite all the joys of Busty Asian Beauties and all the other porn sites, had been advocating destroying the internet. “So what’s on the internet that makes you want to destroy it so much?” He finally asked a few days after dealing with Andrew Silver.

They were back in the kitchen of the bunker. Dean was making lunch and Sam was trying to stay out of his way. Neither of them had acknowledged the fact that it was Valentine’s day but Sam had woken up to chocolate chip pancakes and now Dean was making him a grilled chicken sandwich. Food was definitely Dean

“Hello conversation from like two days ago,” Dean threw over his shoulder.

Sam laughed, “Sorry… I just can’t help but wondering why you of all people want to kill the internet. What would you do without hours of porn at your fingertips.”

“Those books,” Dean answered after a moment, “I just don’t like the whole world knowing about our lives.”

“Chuck didn’t know we were real when he wrote them, well I mean except ones Becky leaked…”

“Oh yeah because that makes it better that your crazy ex wife was the one who uploaded them to the internet.” Sam flinched at little at the reminder that he had once been semi-legally bound to Becky.

“Yeah… okay I see your point.”

“Besides I don’t need the internet for porn,” Dean interrupted as he deposited a plate with a sandwich and chips in front of him, “I’ve got you for that.”

Sam choked mid bite, a piece of chicken flying back out of his mouth.

“See that’s what I’m talking about, choke on that chicken.” Dean teased.

Being a demon had definitely changed Dean. They had been more physical since the cure than they had been since they were teenagers. Sam wondered if part of it was the mark, the fact that they both needed each other to be human. He had crossed hundreds of lines in his attempts to get Dean back and that he’d been no better than his demonic brother, just he didn’t have the black eyes to make everything okay. That had lead him down the dark path of wondering what would happen if Dean gave in and went dark again. Sam knew without much thought that it would be easier to follow Dean to hell than it would be to survive without him.

“Shut up jerk,” Sam hissed between bites, his face might have actually been on fire.

Dean was outright laughed at him, stealing a chip and shoving it into his mouth, “Whatever bitch you like it.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that.


	14. 2016

2016

Sam was oddly okay with Dean’s qareen manifesting itself as Amara. He wasn’t thrilled because it proved that everything that he had been afraid of was for a good reason. But he wasn’t offended the way he maybe should have been. He wasn’t Dean’s ‘deepest, darkest desire’ it had taken him years but he’d learned that what they had wasn’t dark, if anything it was the only consistent light they had.

He was devastatingly pissed at Amara and her creepy forced will bullshit she was pulling with Dean. Right now she was the looming cloud on their horizon. They’d never actually lived life without that cloud. Sure it’d taken on different shapes, names but it had always been there in one way or another. If she wasn’t in the picture things would have actually been going well for the two of them. He would be more than happy to get rid of her just for that reason alone.

There was the small matter of rock, paper, scissors.

Sam could not remember a single time when he’d lost. They’d been using that game to settle every debate since Sam had been old enough to grasp of concept. As a teen he had been pissed at Dean for throwing every game in his favor. As an adult he’d began to wonder if muscle memory had made it impossible for Dean to win. Until the other night.

He’d tried to discretely investigate this phenomenon and they’d drawn over who would drive first, Sam won. This morning it had been over who got the last cup of coffee, again Sam won. Sam didn’t really need to test it out any further, he saw a pattern. Dean was giving him the stuff he didn’t really care about, things that in the long run really wouldn’t matter, but they were also things that according to Dean’s personality he couldn’t just hand over without a fight. But now when they did matter it appeared Dean was treating him like an equal.

It had only taken almost 33 years.

**Author's Note:**

> 1983 was like the most bittersweet angst/fluff


End file.
